


if we were vampires

by obsob



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, no magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-27 23:24:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16711984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsob/pseuds/obsob
Summary: sirius black was the kind of man remus should hate.





	if we were vampires

**Author's Note:**

> this is more angsty than was originally intended, oopsies. 
> 
>  
> 
> also very slight trigger warnings: non explicit implications of  
> child abuse and suicidal intention and minor character death. fun fun fun.

Sirius Black was the kind of man Remus should hate.

(he was lightning limbs and firework words; he was always just a little louder than the loudest person in the room, oil slick smirks peering through messy hair, loose fingers playing with drawstrings, with headphones, with pencils until Remus’ face felt flushed and hot)

And yet, here he was. 

 

+

 

Remus is not a morning person. As a child he would grumble and fuss against the rising of the sun and cheap school shoes then never fit him quite right, and as an adult, he isn’t much different.  
Removing himself from bed is like prying a limpet from a rock, but none the less he eventually makes his way to the kitchen and glares at the empty kettle and crumb covered toaster as he mindlessly shovels porridge into his mouth. Sirius comes swanning in a few moments later, the smell of his aftershave arriving before he does, and laughs at Remus’ generally rumpled aura.  
“if you keep pulling that face, the wind will change, and you’ll be stuck like that” Sirius says to him, smiling over the rim of his mug. Remus does not honour that with an answer and skulks back to his room, Sirius’ popping candy laugh following him. Tormenting. 

(These are their mornings.)

 

+

 

They met in first year of university.  
Remus was somewhat of a wreck at this point in time; he had spent so much of his life being under scrutiny, under the supervision of wringing hands and dissecting sentences, that when he left to live in accommodation he found he didn’t really know himself. 

The personality he thought he had, what he thought was him, was in fact a façade made to appear good and clever and sensible where in fact he was none of these things. Yes he got good grades, but intelligence and smartness are different. He could tell you how to rip apart a computer and put it back together, he could cook meals and do the dishes and wash his clothes; he had been looking after himself since he was 10 years old he can do this. But he forgets to eat, to sleep more than 4 hours a night, because he hasn’t felt loved in years so how is meant to love himself. 

He also forgets to buy a coat.

As is the habit of British winters, cold winds rolled in hard and fast; Remus left his flat when the sun was rising and watched the sunset from the lecture theatre in the evening, or the studio, or the library.  
It was 1:43am on a school night, and Remus was huddled outside of his accommodation block staring at his shoes and blinking back tears because he forgot his key, and his phone ran out of battery 30 minutes ago so he can’t call security, and he can’t go into the main building to get security in person because he forgot his fucking key.  
(and he has spent so long focusing on his school work, on impressing tutors and meeting deadlines that he also forgot to make friends. Friends that he could go to for help.) 

He stood there, shoulders hunched against the biting wind that seemed to go straight through him when someone rounded the corner.  
The boy wavered and stumbled in his step and looked at Remus with bright eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Hello” the boy said carefully, like he had a very poor grasp on English at that moment, and by the way he was leaning on the wall and the slightly unhinged tilt to his mouth, Remus concluded that the boy was, at the very least, drunk. 

“Come here often.” The boy said, slurring more obvious now. (Accent: plummy.)

“I’m locked out.” Remus said, blankly.

“Ah,” the boy exhaled, smiling, looking to the stars “isn’t that the folly of men.”  
The boy looked back at Remus and reached into his pocket purposefully, fumbled for a few moments, then pulled out his hand (empty) whilst still smiling and said, “I am also locked out.”

Thankfully, he did have a phone, and Remus called security to come and open the door for them as the boy lectured the night sky on why interplanetary travel was possible and they were going to do it, and Remus looked at him and thought this boy is made of starlight. 

Somewhere between Remus hanging up the phone and a disgruntled security guard coming to meet them, the boy had decided Remus was the saddest, coldest thing he had ever seen, and dumped his hoodie, jacket and scarf onto him. Leaving Remus feeling like he was wearing a duvet, but also, warm. 

When they finally parted ways, it took until Remus was about to change into his pyjamas to realise that he was still wearing all of the boy’s clothes.  
In the morning he knocked on the boy’s door and was greeted by another boy with kind eyes and hair like ink blots who led him into the kitchen where the boy had his head buried in his arms, a steaming mug resting near him.

He looked up and smiled when he saw Remus standing in the doorway, and said in an almost whisper “ah, the angel returns.”  
“he’s still a little drunk.” The other boy said, fondly exasperated. 

Remus set the bundle of clothing on the counter and mumbled some thanks, startling when a warm hand grasped his.

“My name is Sirius.” The boy, Sirius, said, importantly. Like he was informing Remus of a mission. 

_Starlight_ , the treacherous, poetic part of Remus’ brain whispered.

“My name is Remus.” He replied, keeping his eyes locked on their hands, dark and light. 

“ _Le loup_.” Sirius breathed. 

“My name is James” The other boy said, obviously fighting back laughter, “what do you study?”

(and suddenly: friends.)

 

+

 

The flat they rent is just big enough for the two of them and in a neighbourhood where you can go out after dark to buy biscuits and probably not get stabbed; better than whatever Remus thought he would ever get.

(He’s pretty sure Sirius has told him to pay a lower rent than is equal, but the flat is nice and doesn’t smell like damp, so he doesn’t have the heart to check or complain.)

This is their routine:

Sirius always wakes up first, but Remus is the first out of bed. Sirius can’t stomach food in the morning so drinks two cups of tea, one black with sugar, one milk, no sugar. Remus eats porridge, or toast, or leftover pasta. Sirius leaves the house first to go to work; he has a Bachelors degree in Cosmology but works doing the numbers at a local gas firm, he says he doesn’t mind. Sometimes Remus believes him.

Remus heads to the studio he rents with 5 other people, (2 rich architect graduates he never sees, a fine artist who pays mostly pays rent on time and generally makes a mess and an editorial graphic designer who has a glass eye and smokes like a chimney and mutters about grid systems and fuckin’ ratios.) 

He stays there working on freelance jobs, or if he has none, trying to get freelance jobs. He leaves at 5pm and starts to make dinner, by the time Sirius is home, usually looking harried from the train that is always stuffed full of bright eyed university students, dinner is sitting fat and happy on the table. Sometimes they eat together, chatting about their days, things they heard, people they saw. Other days they pass like ships and go into their rooms, emerging later for cups of tea or hot chocolate, fingers brushing reaching for spoons and sugar.

_(silly boys in love)_

 

+

 

(“I can’t move back home” Remus said, December, 3rd year, “I can’t do it- I can’t, but I can’t afford to do anything else. If I move back there I’m going to stay there for the rest of my life I know I will, I can’t do it.”

Sirius frowned at him. It’s 7pm, they were having a good day. 

“I thought we were living together after uni?”

Remus raised his head from his hands and looked at Sirius and at the sincerity, the bafflement in his eyes. 

“Oh.”)

 

+

 

Remus has a part time job in a bar, because if being an illustrator is anything it is _inconsistent_ and Remus would like a little job security in his life. 

He started working there in 2nd year, and, surprising everyone (including himself ), he loves it. The staff are funny and real, and it’s always nice when told that yes, they do need to sweep the street, to clean the back, his groans of annoyance and tiredness are echoed back to him. 

He works Thursday and Saturday evenings; Sirius insisted that he have one fun evening, come on my sweet little pumpkin, live a little. Saturdays are the worst, but he wears ear plugs and only sometimes breaks glasses, so he doesn’t mind too much. 

It’s a Saturday, coming up to 11pm so it’s quieting down a little as people head off to taxis, to clubs, when he gets a tap on the shoulder from Alice (short, cropped brown hair, a firecracker) who says:  
“Isn’t that your boyfriend?”

Remus whips his head around to see, ah. 

“That’s my roommate, actually.”

Alice frowns. “Oh, sorry. You talk about him a lot, I just assumed.”

Remus smiles and says, “don’t worry we get that a lot.”

Sirius is sitting on a sofa opposite the bar, his arm over the shoulder of the girl of the week. Sirius never kept girls or boys or anyone around long. His longest dating record is 2 months, by which time  
James was already organising the wedding. 

A new swell of people come through the door then, so Remus gets back to work. This late in the night people are asking for shots more than anything else. He has it down in charts.  
(-5-6pm: beer mostly, a little spirits.  
-6-8pm: busiest hours, still mainly beer, some wine, strangely flavoured cider.  
-8-9pm: spirits, a lot of gin.  
-9-11pm: tequila)

He’s beginning to clean glasses when Sirius puts his head through the serving window the glass collectors use to pass glasses and ask for apple juice.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He says, smiling. 

“You should have told me you were coming, I would have told the others to give you discount.”

“I wanted to surprise you.” 

Remus smiles. “Consider me surprised.”

 

Remus is more surprised that Sirius waits for him to finish his shift. 

“Where’s your date?” He asks as they begin to walk home.

“Hm? Oh, I wasn’t that into her, it turned out.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that. She was pretty.”

“I guess.” 

Remus frowned. “Are you okay?”

It was Sirius’ turn to frown, “Yeah? I’m not bummed out about it. It’s just-“, he sighed “it’s just, I don’t know, I haven’t really been into anyone recently. I get them and then I don’t know what to do with them.” 

That was unusual, for the brief period Sirius’ flames hung around, they seemed content. 

“Maybe your brain is oversaturated with. People. Lovers.”

Sirius scrunches his nose at Remus’ wording and smiles, “’Lovers’ seems a little generous. Say it again.”

“ _Lovers_ ” Remus replies, extending the word slightly.

Sirius laughs and his shoulders loosen and the moon smiles, their breath steaming in the winter air. 

 

+

 

Remus’ first Christmas at university was not what he expected. He had heard his roommates talking in the kitchen about when they were going home, some as soon as the term ended, others sticking around a little longer to work, to have friends over. The thought of Christmas made Remus’ throat feel tight, so he slunk out of the flat and down one floor to Sirius’ door which was nearly always propped open. 

James was sitting in the kitchen with Peter; a slightly timid boy from across the hall who had met them through James’ girlfriend, Lily, who had met him when he helped her carry cardboard trees across campus. Peter had his laptop open and from what was reflected from James’ glasses, it looked like one of Peters projects. 

“Hey Remus, come and look at Peters game, he put us in it.”

Remus walked over and peered over James’ shoulder.

“Why is James a deer.”

“I’m a _stag Remus, have some_ culture.”

“Did you make him a deer because of that one time he got drunk and shouted in that field about Lily.”

Peter laughed, and James squawked in complaint. 

“I don’t know,” Peter shrugged, “it suits him, don’t you think?”

Remus considered James; unwaveringly kind, strong, brave, a leader. 

“Yeah, it does. Why are you a rat?”

Peter shrugged again, “They’re small and smart.”

Peter was 5”5 and had gotten into university on a scholarship. 

“Suits you too.” James said warmly. “You and Sirius’ characters are pretty self-explanatory. I’m guessing you came to see him?” 

“Yeah, is he in his room?” Remus said, straightening up.

“That he is. Run along to your canine friend”

Remus turned out of the kitchen and headed to the room at the end of the small corridor, knocking on the door once before opening it.  
“You know the point of knocking is to wait for a reply” a snippy comment came from the illuminated light of the tiny bathroom. 

“What’s the fun in that?” Remus replied, leaning in the doorway.

Sirius looked at him through the mirror, grinning, then dropped his smile to something concerned and turned to him. “You okay?”

Somehow Sirius always saw through Remus’ very carefully built and maintained shields, it was frustrating and unpleasant but also, strangely, relieving. He had given up lying to him. 

“What are you doing for Christmas?” he asked, looking at his feet. 

Sirius turned fully to face him, leaning against the sink, hand still holding a towel.  
“I finish on the 14th, but James doesn’t till the 18th so I’ll hang around till then, then we’ll go home. Probably be back for the 3rd of Jan, why?”

Remus bit his lip, hard. “Just wondering.”

“Hey, don’t do that.” Sirius stepped forward and poked his cheek, Remus released his lip. “What are you doing for Christmas? Can you look at me?”

Remus stayed silent for a moment before he raised his eyes and said, “staying here,” embarrassed.

Sirius’ mouth tightened, “Why?”

Remus shrugged, “it’s just. Easier, I guess.”

“Easier.” Sirius repeated tonelessly. Something a little too knowing in his eyes. 

“It’s not-“ Remus began, slightly frantic, defensive but not quite sure why “my parents aren’t-it’s just, you know, Christmas is a lot, and it’s- I mean I live far and it’s cheaper to stay here, so.” He trailed off. 

Sirius regarded him carefully, “you went home last weekend”.

“Yeah, it was my aunt’s birthday, she’s the oldest in the family so it’s always a big thing. My parents told me then it would probably be better for me to stay here. I don’t mind, honestly, I was just wondering what you were doing.” Remus said, still talking a little too quickly. 

Curiously, Sirius seemed to be glancing over Remus’ body, how he was holding himself. 

“Hey, Sirius I’m fine, I’m okay.” Sirius looked to Remus’ face again. “it’s not, like-that. Y’know?”

(Remus knows Sirius does know. He knows James and Sirius aren’t biological brothers, anyone with a high school grasp of biology, or eyes, can see that. He’s seen how Sirius stiffens a little at loud noises, how he can get quiet around drunk women in pubs, fists clenched, breathing a little too heavy.)

Sirius stayed quiet for a moment, a haunted, tense moment, grey eyes locked to green, then nodded. He walked past Remus and out of his door. Remus followed, a little bewildered.  
“James.” Sirius proclaimed, something triumphant as he entered the kitchen. “Remus is coming home with us for Christmas”

_This is golden_ , Remus thought, _this is family._

 

+

 

Remus never quite understood why his parents were the way they were. He knew they did love him, but they just never showed it. 

He was sick a lot as a child, his father’s work meant he couldn’t stay home much, so his mother took care of him. She gave him his medicine and drove him to the doctors, to the hospital when things got bad. 

He always hurt, some part of him always aching or pulling. He couldn’t wait for the 2 year NHS counselling waiting list to reach him so they had to go private.  
£45 an hour to sit in a room with a psychologist adds up when you go for 5 years, and Remus’ family was not rich. 

He wonders, if his parents hate him a little for being sick, for being in pain, for feeling so sad about the pain he needs them to spend hundreds of pounds a year to keep him afloat. 

Sometimes he hates himself for that. 

 

+

 

One day Remus comes home, and Sirius is already standing in the kitchen, hands braced on the edge of the sink. 

“ _Jesus_ ” Remus exhales as he rounds the door, “you scared me, say something next time.” He places his bag on a chair at the table and choses a mug. “You want one?” he asks, reaching for the tea tin. 

“No, I’m good thanks.” Sirius says, voice strangely high. Remus stops and looks at Sirius, alarm bells ringing. Then he remembers the date. 

Oh.

“ _Oh_.” He breathes. “Sirius you could have called me.” 

“I know. I thought I’d be fine, I usually am. I don’t-I don’t-“ his voice began to shake. 

“Hey.” Remus says gently, walking to him and places his hands on his shoulders, feeling them tense then slowly relax. “It’s okay. You’re allowed this, this is fine.” 

Sirius turned, eyes red rimmed and wet. Remus cupped his face and the taller man turned fully and leaned into Remus.  
Remus threw his arms around Sirius’ neck and nosed his hair slightly, Sirius’ arms coming around his waist, his ribs digging into Sirius’ stomach as he stretched up. 

“It’s okay.” He said, feeling wet patches beginning to grow on his neck. “You’re allowed to mourn.”

 

+

 

Sirius’ brother died 3 months after they graduated. He was 19. 

Remus had a vague idea that Sirius had a sibling, a blood sibling, from things he would say, or things he would know, but never asked about it. Was too afraid to, in a way. Scared for Sirius, because who knew what kind of memories that would bring up.

He didn’t know much about Sirius’ childhood, he knew he grew up very rich and very very sad, and that was enough for him. 

He got a text from Sirius at 2pm on a muggy summers day that just said: ‘general hospital. icu. ask for regulus black’ and within 5 minutes was running across the city. 

He arrived breathless and sweating to see Sirius hunched in a ball against the wall, next to a closed door. A nurse was kneeling next to him, obviously trying to console him who Remus nodded at and took the place of.  
“Hello.” He said. 

Sirius slowly, sluggishly raised his head. His eyes were puffy and glassy. “he didn’t make it.” He croaked. “I didn’t get here in time. He had already gone. He was trying to help. He was trying to tear them apart. 

Remus ‘shh’d’ him gently, and pressed their foreheads together, letting Sirius feel his breathing.

 

Remus later found out that Regulus Black had fallen in with the ‘wrong crowd’. Phrases like ‘gang affiliation’ were tossed around by the police officers the hospital had called when they realised they were dealing with bullet wounds. 

Apparently Regulus, however, had his own agenda. A search of his flat found photographs, videos of deals, of meetings, of members, all neatly organised to send off to the police when the ‘report’ was complete.

He knew Sirius blamed himself; that he thought he should have taken Regulus with him when he left, that he should have stayed in contact with him, he should have been a better brother. But Remus couldn’t do anything about that, all he could do was sit with him in that stuffy corridor (with nurses and doctors walking past like this happened every day, because hey, it probably did) and hold him. 

 

+

 

Remus almost exclusively listens to what Sirius calls “sad white people indie folk”, which is a name Remus argues is inaccurate because that implies there are other kinds of indie folk music. 

Sirius complains loudly and explicitly when Remus plays music in the kitchen, whining and singing in a throaty, nasally voice phrases like “ah, I am white, I am sad, where is my guitar and weed”. 

Remus would complain just as loudly about Sirius’ music choices but Sirius listens to every music genre from rock, to bubble-gum pop, to French Jazz from the 40’s; and one evening he walked into the living room to see Sirius swinging his hips to a crooning woman and waltzing trumpets, and everything suddenly seemed a little less funny. 

 

+

 

(In first year, Sirius was convinced that their flat was haunted and the ghost lived in the oven, which kept breaking. Clearly a ghost was the _only possible and plausible way this could be happening Remus the fuse box is getting unscrewed what the fuck_ . 

They all humoured Sirius until one night they’re sitting in kitchen with the lights off, watching The Thing, when the motion sensor light in the hall flickered on by itself. 

They all sat absolutely still for a few moments, not daring to move, when footsteps begin to thump down the hall getting louder as they approach the kitchen, then stopping just before. 

It turned out, after a little investigating in the light of day, that the footsteps where in fact the students in the flat next door running the length of their hallway. 

“But what about the light” Peter muttered. No one could answer him.

(Sometimes when Remus is in the flat, when Sirius is at work and Remus is staying home, he wishes the ghost followed them, just so he didn’t feel quite so alone.)

 

+

 

Sirius’ next boyfriend ( _lover_ ) is a tall, bulky man that blinked a little too often, and Remus didn’t like him. 

It isn’t unusual for Remus to not be overly fond of Sirius’ taste in partner, a few were so lovely he couldn’t help but like them, like the girl who still gives him discounted hot chocolate at a nearby café, or the person that gave him their spare pair of cosy socks when they noticed Remus’ were looking particularly ratty. 

Generally, he regards them with no small amount of coldness, something about them that just irks him.

But this man, that man he _didn’t like_.

His smiles seem a little too bright, his laughs too loud, and what annoys him the most is Sirius is blind to this. They’re sitting in the living room whilst Remus sits at the dining table reading articles on his phone. He can hear the TV playing, but he can also here Sirius and this man chatting and laughing, and he sits there, slowly seething. 

Eventually the TV is switched off and they both walk into the kitchen smiling, fingers tangled, and Remus fumes. 

“Oh. Hey, I didn’t know you were home.” Sirius says, eyebrows raised. 

The boyfriend looks disappointed to find they aren’t alone in the flat and Remus sees red.

He stands up, sharply, and puts his mug in the sink with a little too much force. “Well, I’m home.” 

There’s a strained silence, before Sirius chuckles awkwardly and introduces the boyfriend as ‘Tom’.

Remus analyses Tom, from his clean-cut hair to his expensive jeans and opens his mouth, knowing he will regret these words before he even says them.  
“I thought you didn’t date ‘Rich Snobs’ anymore.” He snaps.

Sirius gapes at him, shock overtaking any other emotion,

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Tom says 

“Oh please,” Remus scoffs, what is he saying what is he saying what is he-, “obviously you’ve got money, probably never worked a day in your life for it, just riding on coattails.” 

“Remus-“ Sirius starts, anger seeping in. 

“Well I can see why Sirius is living in this shithole now,” Tom sneers, all good nature lost from his face, “scum like you can’t afford better. Obviously.” He pointedly looked Remus up and down. 

“ _Hey_.” Sirius snaps, turning on Tom, “ _Quit it_.”  
“You’ll defend him but not me? Maybe you’re fucking _him_ then, though I don’t care how good he is, I can tell you it’s not worth it. It’s not like he’s much to look at.” 

“Get the _fuck_ out. _Now_.” Sirius says, coldly, eyes blazing. Tom scoffs disbelievingly but stomps out of the kitchen before they hear the front door slam. 

“What the _fuck_ was that Remus?”, Sirius shouted, and fuck, Remus knew he fucked up because Sirius never shouted. 

“I don’t-“ he’s floundering now, embarrassment taking over anger.

“What the fuck is wrong with you. I _liked him_.” Sirius spits. 

“Yeah, he was really fucking nice Sirius. Nice guy you’ve got there, real fucking catch. He’s a classist asshole, maybe you have that in common.” Remus shot back, anger returning. 

Sirius laughs, smiling but his eyes cold, “What did you say?”

“Do you think I’ve forgotten the shit you said to me in first year?” Remus says.

Sirius blinks in remembrance and flushes a little “I was different back then, I only did it a couple times. You and James told me to quit it and I did. I’ve apologised for that already.”

(They were small comments; stop complaining about being hungry just buy some food, just buy a coat, don’t buy that cheap brand It’s disgusting. But small things hurt when they’re from friends.)

“Clearly, you’re not that different, Sirius, or tell me why I’m paying £50 less than I should be a week for rent. Tell me that-I’m not an idiot Sirius Black,” He snaps when Sirius blanches, “Of course I fucking knew. I’m not a charity case.”

“And god forbid that I do anything nice for you,” Sirius shouts, throwing his hands up, mouth cruel. “God forbid it help you live in an area where people don’t get mugged every week. This is why you don’t have any friends, this is why people don’t want to date you. You think you’re so _fucking important_ , that everyone is out to get you. Well heads up mate, you don’t _fucking matter_.”

_Ah_ , Remus thinks, _this is why we don’t argue. He always wins_.

Remus stands silently, looking at the floor. Sirius breathes heavily for a few moments, before blinking, his breath hitching.

“Ah, fuck, I didn’t mean-“ he begins weakly.

“Yes, you did.” Remus replies tightly. Shouldering past him towards the door.

“Remus.” Sirius says softly. 

Remus says nothing, eyes burning. He picks up his keys, hands shaking. 

Sirius notices, because of course he does.

“Where are you going?” He asks, like he’s talking to a wild animal, and god, if Remus doesn’t feel like a skittish feral cat, wanting nothing more than to press himself underneath a bookcase and shake in  
peace. 

(They have a thing. They always tell each other where they are because Sirius is scared of losing people, and Remus had a habit in first year of looking a little too hard at sleeping tablets in the drug store and not answering his phone for days on end. They’re better now, both of them, but the habit sticks.)

“James.” Remus says, voice somehow strong. 

 

The bus journey is a blur, but his hands don’t stop shaking until he is knocking on the door of ‘Potters Cottage’. It takes a few moments for a light to turn on in an upstairs window and Remus remembers  
its 2am. The door opens cautiously, James’ face hard and tight before he sees Remus and sags. 

“Remus?” He says, wonderingly, reaching for the hall light. Remus thinks he must look a lot worse in the light, because James immediately makes a low, wounded noise and pulls him gently into the house. 

“Sirius-“ he says, voice cracking now. 

James’ hands tighten on his arm, “Is he-“

“He’s fine.” Remus says quickly, James relaxes slightly. “We, uh, we had an argument.”

James blinks in surprise. “I didn’t think you guys argued.”

“We don’t” Remus croaks, his surroundings going blurry, chest tight.

“Oh,” James pulls Remus in close, tucking Remus’ head under his chin, “It’s ok, mate. Breathe.” And Remus tries.

 

(Later, when he’s in the spare room with a mug of sweet tea made by a Lily (“it’s no trouble, honestly. This little one is keeping me awake anyway.” She’d said, patting her rounded stomach) he looks at his phone to see a text from Sirius.  
Sirius: text me when you get to james’. (01:42)  
_Remus: I’m here._ (02:34)  
Sirius: good (02:35)  
Sirius: im sorry (02:35)  
_Remus: Me too. Give me a little while._ (02:38)  
Sirius: sleep well moony (02:40)  
_Remus: Goodnight, padfoot._ (02:43) )

 

+

 

“We should have nicknames” Sirius proclaimed one night, sprawled on Remus’ bed, Remus sitting on the floor. They were drunk.

“Why?” Remus smiled, head lolling.

“Because we’re friends. Friends in books always have nicknames.” Sirius said passionately, everything he does he does passionately. He doesn’t do something unless it is worth loving and Remus loves him for that. 

“We’re not in a book Sirius, this is real.”

“Then let’s pretend.” Sirius says, a sense of urgency about him “let’s pretend we’re in one of your books, with witches and wizards and dragons and _magic powers._ ” He sat up, “I should write these things down.” He swept a blanket over his shoulders and padded noiselessly to Remus desk, rummaging through the draws. 

“Padfoot.” Remus said, as Sirius turned to him, wide eyed. “Your power would be sneaking around, no doubt causing mischief.”  
Sirius grinned, nose scrunching, and leaned close to Remus, who was smiling too. 

“And you would be the moon, you would be ‘Moony’, leading my way through darkened corridors and shadowed forests.”

“You be the mischief, and I’ll do the managing.”

They breathed each other’s air and felt a scorching something in their chests, lips almost, almost, touching. 

(and Remus, later, just before falling asleep, wondered what would have happened had they had crossed that canyon between them. But he didn’t remember that part.)

 

+

 

He wakes up with a headache and gritty eyes and it takes him a minute to fully realise where he is. 

Right.

Lily and James are both standing in the kitchen, close, the early afternoon sunlight silhouetting them in gold and black, and Remus’ chest aches with what he suddenly realises is longing. 

“Remus,” Lily says, the first to realise he’s there, “how are you feeling?”

Remus smiles weakly, “I’ve been worse.”

James, who had seen Remus at ‘worse’, did not look relieved. 

“I really should get to work, my dear,” Lily sighs, picking up her bag, “as much as I love her, I do not trust Molly with that set anymore I trust you will remember to buy butter today.”

James let out a fake gasp of hurt and Remus felt something in him loosen at the normality of it all. Lily kisses James lightly, then does the same to Remus looking at him fondly, sadly. 

“No heavy lifting,” James calls after her as she went into the hall.

“I want our baby to have abs, darling. It’s the only way.” Lily replies, laughing, “I’ll be home before 6.” Then she was gone. 

James smiles for a moment before looking at Remus, “hungry?” 

Remus shakes his head and sat down at the table. 

“Why don’t you tell me what happened, I couldn’t really get much out of you last night.”

Remus sighs, but tells him. Face burning with shame the more he went on. James let out a dark curse when Remus reports what Sirius said, but he was quick to defend him.

“What-what he said was, bad, yes, but I was out of line James. We both were, we’re both culprits and victims. I just,” he leant back in his hair and stares at the ceiling. “I don’t understand why I said those things.” He says weakly.

“Don’t you?” James says, a soft wonder in his voice. “God, you really don’t.”

“What?” Remus says, looking back to James, “what am I missing?”

James thinks for a moment. “Do you remember when me, Lily and Snape had that argument.”

God does he. Remus suspects every person in their year remembers that argument. It had been phenomenal. 

Severus had been shadowing Lily for weeks, they had known each other in secondary school and college, and apparently Severus didn’t quite know the meaning of ‘No’. 

When Lily turned him down, Severus decided to make a spectacle of the event, of Lily. Remus remembers how uncomfortable, how humiliated she looked as Severus shouted and proclaimed how selfish and self-absorbed he thought lily was; how so full of righteous anger James was as he cut through the crowd and shut Severus down, until Lily came back to herself, then he let her finish the job, standing silently by her side. 

“This isn’t quite the same scenario,” James says, with an amused lilt, “but Snape said all those things to Lily because he was jealous. He was jealous that I love her, but more so that she loves me.” 

Remus blinks. “I don’t understand how this relates at all.”

“Remus, you were jealous.”

“Of Sirius? James, _Tom was vile_.”  
“No, Remus,” James says, smiling, bemused, excited, “you were jealous that Sirius was with someone else. Someone other than you.”

Remus stops. Everything stops. For what is probably only a second but feels like a year, flashes of memory dance in Remus’ head; Sirius’ awful bed hair, how he never re-fills the kettle, hickies on his tan neck that make Remus’ chest hurt, black nail polish, cinnamon tea, muddy boots, curling lips, Sirius’ laugh, Sirius’ fingers, Sirius’ eyes, Sirius Sirius Sirius. 

“Oh. I’m in love with him.”

And that’s it. 

“and that’s it,” James smiles, “do you want to borrow the car.” 

“Yes. Thank you. _Thank you_.” Remus breathes as James pushes the keys into his hand.

“I-I have to-“ 

“Jesus Christ, go, Remus, you’ve been waiting almost six years. Go to him.”

“God, I- _six years?_ Since the-“

“Go!” James laughs, practically pushing him out the door. 

Remus runs to the car and swings the door open, hearing James laugh louder from the doorway.

 

He is sure he breaks the law at least once on the way back home (because it is home), but he cannot bring it in himself to care.

_All this time_. He thinks. _All this fucking time, I can’t waste the rest of it on traffic laws._

He’s practically out of the car before he’s pressed the brake, flying up the stairwell like he is made of air. 

_“Sirius”_ he shouts as he bursts through the front door, _“Sirius.”_

Sirius comes running in from his room and stops sharply when he steps into the hall. He has bags under his eyes, his mouth a heartbroken tilt. 

“Remus,” he exhales once, before Remus closes the gap between them, before he bridges the canyon, and they kiss. 

It’s breathless and desperate, it’s too much teeth and harsh breathing but its them and its real and its finally here. Sirius pushes Remus against the wall and shoves a leg between his thighs, they tangle their threads, their souls, in that dim corridor of their mostly-not-shitty flat, and they roll their bodies together like the ocean until they’re both gasping and spent. Finally pulling apart, just a little.

“You fucking matter.” Sirius pants, “I shouldn’t have said those things.”

“Neither should I,” Remus replies breathlessly, looking up at Sirius, “we’re both fools. Fools in love.”

Sirius looks at him like he’s the god damn messiah. 

“We’re in love.” His face drops, “god-I-I said such horrible things-“

Remus presses his finger tips to Sirius’ lips, and says with a smile, “How about you let me pay the rest of the rent and we call it quits.” 

_This is golden_ , he thinks, as Sirius smiles back and laughs and laughs, _we’re going to be golden._

**Author's Note:**

> i projected onto remus a disgusting amount but hey,  
> thats how it be sometimes. (how it be all the time)
> 
> my 1st year accom had a severe ghost issue.  
> my current accomodation has a severe damp issue and no window  
> in the kitchen. i prefer the ghost. 
> 
> also this is offically the longest thing i have ever written  
> i dont know how you guys write these 20k 50k 100k fics.  
> thats a lot of words. 
> 
> [i'm here on tumblr where i draw sometimes](http://obsob.tumblr.com/)   
>  [here is some modern uni marauders stuff that might please you](http://obsob.tumblr.com/post/177356988308/its-coming-up-to-uni-season-in-the-uk-so-heres)


End file.
